London Vampire
by Lord Loco
Summary: There's a vampire on the prowl in the streets of Victorian London. What will everyone think? A short, random one-shot. Not affiliated with any particular franchise.


A London Vampire

The streets of London were quiet and dark, a fairly common occurrence at three in the morning. Not entirely quiet of course, there were always the hussies, muggers, drunks and so on, but there was a certain tranquillity that simply wasn't there when the sun was out. London's trademark mist and light rain did nothing to dampen the sense of gloomy serenity.

"Fancy some fun love?" Lynn Brown was quick to regret her offer to the man she'd just cut in front of. He had looked so promising in his broad-brimmed hat and long raincoat, but now that their eyes met she recoiled. He looked down on her; his glare was all the answer she needed. She sidestepped and let him pass, turning with him as he did, not letting him see her back. There had been several murders of women like her lately after all. It was probably this man, it had to be. You had to be a murderer to look so positively murderous. The very moment he turned a corner and disappeared, she spun on her heel and ran as fast as her bandy legs could carry her.

The man in the raincoat heard Lynn's footsteps clearly, so she had seen then. But what did she know? Probably nothing. It was odd with people, confront them with a single legend and they turned tail and ran. Either that or denied it to themselves, or both. In any event it was of little consequence. If the police believed her, and they seldom believed whores at any rate, she would have told them the wrong story. Maybe she thought she'd seen this Ripper character. Hah, Jack the Ripper. Amateur. Leaving corpses out in the open like that, he was bound to get caught. What was he on about anyway? Cutting them open and doing what? Training? A strange fetish perhaps. Maybe he sought to transplant organs from one human to another, HAH! Just the thought was ludicrous, and he should know.

A certain scent chose that particular moment to hurl itself into his sinuses. The smell of food, yes, and a good meal it was too. Unspoiled. That was a rare treat in this part of the city. Idle thoughts evaporated faster than a merchant's honesty. Instantly he snapped into focus, only one thing on his mind. Food.

He stalked down one street, turned, and went down another. Deeper into the slums. Truly remarkable to find such a delicacy in that place, but it was there and he would find it. Down another street and 'round another corner. What was that? He felt eyes on his back. Malignant eyes.

Freddy Jaeger gripped harder around the handle of his sap, this one was jumpy. Freddy hadn't even made a sound but the man in the raincoat had suddenly stopped, spun around, and now stood facing him. Eerie, it was almost like he looked him in the eyes. Fred knew that was impossible though. He was clad in black and hiding in shadows amidst the many crates littering the street, behind a curtain of laundry. There was no way the stranger could see him through all that. But it certainly seemed like he did. Freddy felt as though his very soul was ransacked under that gaze. Is he coming this way? How? He couldn't have… Huh?

The man looked up from the sundered body at his feet. Disturb his hunt, would he? Hardly. He was not about to let any lowlife ruin this. Ah well, despite his impatience he had plenty of time, and the Themes wasn't far away. It was only ever used for sewers in any case, in other words it was perfectly fit for this particular use.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

An old man would die from shock the next morning when he found what looked like a grossly deformed human head attached to a soft, seamless leather sack of meat and guts and crushed bones, but nobody knew or cared. Least of all the one responsible.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One bodydump later, he was back on track. Nothing would keep him from his meal tonight. Nothing. Faster than a horse on Oats he found the street where he'd been so rudely interrupted. Once there he turned his nose to the wind, quickly picking up the scent he'd lost in the pungent odour of the river. Yes, there it is, lovely. Starting to lose what patience was left, he scurried up the road towards the heavenly smell, coat flaring out behind him.

He'd found it. The house from where the scent originated lay in front of him. Two stories of pitiful wood barely worth the name. According to his nose though, there was hidden treasure inside. Treasure that needed retrieving. He went to the front door, the only door. It was locked, too bad. The man put his hand flat on its surface, near the handle, and pushed. The clasp gave, or rather, its nails did. The whole security contraption was torn loose from the rotting wood, nearly without a sound, certainly not enough to wake anyone. He closed the door behind him as he entered.

Up the stairs he went, making no more sound than a moth. The source was here, behind the very last door in the hall. There were people sleeping in the other rooms as well, he could smell them, but they would continue sleeping. Carefully he opened the door and peeked inside. And there she was. No doubt the daughter of the house, barely sixteen but a woman still, her curves were magnificent. He walked over to her bed; her face was a mask of innocence framed by soft hazel hair. Beautiful. Such a shame.

She didn't wake when he gently lifted her arms over her head. But when he clamped shut his grip to hold them her head whipped about.

"Wha…?!" she nearly begun before catching his eyes. Bottomless red pits with no soul behind, only beastly desire. He stared hungrily at her. She tried to call for help but couldn't find her voice, it was lost in those terrible eyes. They held her mind, her voice, even her will, as surely as a vice.

He climbed into her bed, trapping her body under his. He felt her warmth stream through the blankets, she was burning. With fear possibly. Sometimes it had that effect. Her gaze was locked to his own, that effect was dependable.

"Please..." she mouthed pleadingly; it was all she could do. He smiled, almost looking kind for a moment, and brought his head down besides hers. He breathed deeply, catching every part of her perfect scent, feeling the brush of her hair on his face, and whispered in her ear.

"Shh. Don't worry, it won't hurt." The voice in itself was warm and loving, a fact that made it all the more frightening when the implication was considered. She tried to move away when he made to kiss her, she might as well have tried to move Westminster.

Their lips met. He caressed her cheek, stroked her hair, then kissed again. His mouth slowly travelled down towards her ample chest, coming to a halt at her throat. Then her eyes popped. If she'd had any control over her vocal cords she would have gasped. As it was, all she managed to do was to draw a sharp breath. Her heart made a sudden jolt, nearly jumping out her ears, before slowing down again. She panicked when she realized it didn't stop slowing, the beats just grew fainter and farther between. Unable to move, she tried to scream, but no sound came. The only thing she achieved was emptying her lungs of air, and now she couldn't fill them back up again either. The room was dark already, but now everything was black. Her heart was nowhere to be found anymore. She could still feel his weight on top of her, but that sensation was also fading. There was a sharp blink of colours before she knew no more.

He let his lips leave her throat. Her big brown eyes, which had just moments ago shone with the light of fear, were now dull and staring into eternity. Such a shame. Such a waste. But that was the law of nature; the strong always eat the weak. He got out of the bed and looked sadly at her lifeless form. It was probably better like this, she was the daughter of a slummer after all. Likely she would have ended up much like the woman he'd met earlier, selling her body to live. Now she had peace and would have it forever. He bent down and caressed her again. There was always this feeling of regret afterwards. Beforehand there was only craving and possession, but afterwards he always wanted to undo it. He ran his hand over the two puncture wounds on her neck before closing her eyes and mouth. There were a few tears to wipe away as well. He hadn't seen those before now, they must have happened when she realized she was dying. A brave girl indeed, not crying before then. Hells Bells how he wanted to undo it. Gods be damned! Had he been human he would have wept. Instead he vacated the premises quietly, leaving the family to find the body in the morning. In a weeks time it would be on again he knew. The craving would be back and he'd kill again, he was powerless to stop it. He could only hope someone would end this thrice-cursed state before then.


End file.
